Ted wanted to distance himself from Cheryl Rubiano as much as possible without straying too far from the facts. He was well aware that police always looked to the spouse first—and with good reason—but explaining the half-assed plan he had agreed to not ten minutes earlier would clarify nothing. “I didn’t know the guy was married until today.”

“I asked if you know her.”

“We’ve met. Once. I wouldn’t say I knew her.”

“She’s young,” the detective said, as though that would be reason enough for Ted to find her attractive. But as it wasn’t a question, Ted ignored the comment.

“Did he suffer?” Ted asked.

“I wouldn’t think so. When’s the last time you saw Cheryl Rubiano?”

The cop knew, or he wouldn’t have asked. Or he would have asked differently. Tell the truth or tell them nothing. Too many old movie plots hung on an unnecessary lie. “She was here about ten minutes ago. That was the first and only time we spoke. I didn’t know there was a Mrs. Rubiano until she showed up. Uninvited.”

Duran nodded.

“You saw her leave,” Ted said.

The detective nodded again.

“Did you see the guy she was with?” Ted asked.

“She walked out of here alone,” Duran said.

“He would have been waiting for her.” Though this was pure speculation, Ted had a strong feeling that he was right.

“I must have missed him,” Duran said, though he made it sound like this was unlikely in the extreme. He was the kind of cop who didn’t miss much.

“You missed him? He’s the size of an offensive lineman. He’s like two of you.”

Duran shrugged indifference. “What did you talk about?”

The ten crisp one-hundred-dollar bills in Ted’s pocket felt like a signed confession. “Wait up. My turn.”

“You wasted your turn. What did you talk about?”

Honesty was one thing, full disclosure something else. The cop could have the truth, but Ted was going to skimp on the portions. “She wants to know who killed her husband.”

“And she suspects you?”

“No. For some reason she thinks I can find out who did it. She’s delusional. It’s grief talking.”

“Watch yourself. She’s gaming you,” Duran said.

“Could be,” Ted said. “Explain.”

“She has a JD file. Her parents made their living scamming people. She was in court six times before she turned sixteen.”

Juvenile Delinquent status was determined by a judge. The arrest and conviction files would have been sealed but available to the police and justice system.

Ted thought back over his conversation with the woman. Certain moments now made more sense. “She claims she’s a model citizen.”

“If she told me the sun was shining, I’d look up before I took her word for it.”

Ted was warned but not alarmed. He would continue to filter anything Cheryl told him.

“She say anything else?” the detective asked.